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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23637580">let's eat.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddthirteen/pseuds/oddthirteen'>oddthirteen</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, One Shot, pizza date on the horizon, subtext is key, thirteen can not stomach a horse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 20:02:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>653</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23637580</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddthirteen/pseuds/oddthirteen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>affection is ripe. hunger is too, evidently.</p>
<p>(also posted to my tumblr oddthirteen.tumblr.com!)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Thirteenth Doctor/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>let's eat.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━</p>
<p>“It’s a long story!”</p>
<p>“I’ve got time!”</p>
<p>The Doctor’s hands glide around the console; her lithe body jutting about with a clumsy ease to aid her reach. A frustrated huff blows stray hair from her face every few seconds as she fiddles with multiple dials and levers, each receiving full attention in unpredictable turn. The glowing crystalline arches converging on the console light her features with different colours - filling out the hollows of her face with light purples and oranges and blues as the minutes shift.</p>
<p>You’re sure then that such light is disguising your reddening cheeks while you pretend to read a stuffy translation of some ancient volume you salvaged from the library. Her incessant niceties are – at the worst of times – incredibly endearing. You begin to wonder if this is her overcompensating for excessive brashness in a previous life.</p>
<p>“It doesn’t matter. Another time.”</p>
<p>She pulls the last lever in reach with a definitive huff. Your previous conversation about a dodgy night out in Bristol is all but forgotten.</p>
<p>“We are parked for the night! Now – where were we?”</p>
<p>The blonde turns and leans with her back to the console, hands resting on the sides. Your eyes meet hers and you begin to dog ear your page as if you ever have any intent on resuming the dull tome. She then begins to quickly scan the room.</p>
<p>“When did the others head off?”</p>
<p>The crease by her left brow intensifies. You feel a smile come on.</p>
<p>“They told you they were heading to the kitchen around 20 minutes ago. You acknowledged it.”</p>
<p>Her eyes narrow briefly, her tongue wetting her bottom lip.</p>
<p>“Did I? Can’t remember. Which kitchen? Are they eating? Did they tell you if it was something nice? Was I invited? I’m hungry actually. Very hungry. Could eat a horse. Don’t fancy horse though, now I think about it.’</p>
<p>Her gaze snaps to you again. She smiles.</p>
<p>‘Why aren’t you with them? Didn’t fancy horse either?”</p>
<p>You place your book on the stairs and rest your elbows to your knees, resting your face in your hands.</p>
<p>“Decidedly not. Not particularly hungry. Well, not if I’d have to cook. I’d kill for a takeaway pizza though. Lazy hungry.”</p>
<p>You look to her and watch as she seemingly begins to lose herself in active thought – the scrunched face you see all too often while facing malicious plotters and dead-end routes. Her soft fingers tap on the console hurriedly. No fingernails.</p>
<p>“Well I mean -’</p>
<p>“What?” You interrupt, feeling a churlish grin tug at your lips. A plan.</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t want to exclude the others, but if they’ve already eaten then -‘</p>
<p>“Yes?” You interrupt.</p>
<p>She looks to you, snapping out of her planning. Your stomach begins to flutter at the eye contact.</p>
<p>“And even though I’ve already technically ended tonight’s flight pattern, I’m sure the old girl wouldn’t mind a trip to 1936. Not exactly takeaway but we could make the grand opening of the famous Di Matteo pizza parlour in Naples. Shouldn’t be too much of a stretch, right? Plus – it’s hard to find a bad pizza in Naples! Way better than your local takeaway, I’d say.”</p>
<p>“The others wouldn’t feel bad? We’d be back soon, yeah?”</p>
<p>The blonde steps towards you, taking your hands in her own. You take in their surprising softness – how her thumb hovers over your own before softly swiping over it.</p>
<p>“It’s been ages since we last did anything together. We’re both hungry! It’d be a crime to not go now I’ve suggested it.”</p>
<p>You look into her eyes and her hands linger on your own. She seems more vulnerable than before, yet almost as if still trying to keep up the bravado. Any soft spot you’d ever dreamed in your wildest and most private thoughts she had towards you seemed oh so ripe at this moment.</p>
<p>You’d be stupid to say no.</p>
<p>“Well then. Let’s eat.”</p>
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